


How to Tell If Your Boyfriend Is the Antichrist

by Stabby_Stab



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Book Omens, John Watson is the antichrist, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mullet Crowley, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock is confused, Weird smash of book and show canon, after canon, death mention, good omens - Freeform, ineffable husbands, lazy writing, maybe I just like my Mullet Crowley and Jazzy Walk David Tennant Crowley hush, ok but seriously I love Book Omens designs that stuff is 10/10, show omens, sorry Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabby_Stab/pseuds/Stabby_Stab
Summary: Sherlock meets the husbands and learns that Johns actually the antichrist, who would’ve guessed?
Relationships: Aziraphale & John Watson, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *John levitates and his head turns 180 degrees, while his eyes glow red to stare at Sherlock.* **What’s for dinner**  
>  Sherlock: Chicken nuggets.

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for John to come back from… wherever he was in Soho. They were in Soho for a interesting case, a murder where there were no obvious wounds, no poison, but all of the blood in the victims body was well… outside her body. Most fascinating indeed.  
He was waiting in a little coffee shop, waiting for John to come back from trying to find witnesses. Boring. 

The was a little tinkle of bells, and John walked through the doorway with… a eccentric, very obviously homosexual man? They were chatting like they knew each other for years, and the eccentric man held a book that looked like it was hundreds of years old, well loved and cared for. 

Sherlock stared at the man as he sat down at the table. “Who’s this John?”

“Ah well, this is Aziraphale. He’s one of my Godfathers. I bumped into him while looking for witnesses, and it turns out he knows a bit about what happened.”

Aziraphale nodded, his long blond curls- so blond they were almost white- bobbing up and down, his pale blue eyes staring right into Sherlock’s soul, if he had one. Somehow this strange man intimidated Sherlock, and made him want to spill out all his secrets and fears while crying on his shoulder at the same time. Weird.

Aziraphale’s gentle, but strong voice cut through Sherlock’s haze. “I have had cameras around my bookshop for quite a long while, and the crime scene was only a block away, so you might be able to find something. I personally don’t like a lot of modern technology, but my husband said they would be a good addition after we nearly got robbed a few years ago. They are perfectly legal, by the way.”

Aziraphale’s words snapped him out of the haze he was in before, which was quite strange and unlike him. He never felt that emotionally vulnerable to someone he just met, not even John, who he practically fell in love with when he complimented his deductions on the spot. 

“On top of this, my husband was also coming home from getting groceries, saw the poor dear right away and was the first to report the crime scene to the police.”

“May we question your husband then?”

“I’m sure he’d be willing. He knew the girl that was killed himself, he was practically like a father to her, however much he’d try to deny it.” Aziraphale said with a sad smile. “He’s really hoping you guys can get the culprit, since he heard your in town.”

Sherlock nodded, standing up from his chair. “Well Watson, the game is afoot.”

———————

Crowley strutted out of the bookshop, with his dark hair styled into a mullet, and wearing fashionable, well fitting clothes.  
Well strutted was flattering, it was more like his hips moved like a human pendulum. 

He is also very obviously gay. Sherlock mused. Just a different type of gay. 

Upon seeing them with aziraphale, he ran over, in a way that made him look less cool, and more like he didn’t know how to run. Sherlock took note of his unusual, galloping gait.  
_’Must have some sort of spine deformity, to walk and run like that. It’s quite clear it wasn’t from a hard shag last night, he’s lived with that for quite a while.’_

(A/N: I’m totally projecting my own back problems on Crowley rn. If my back hurts and I Walk Like That, so does he. Also since my run is so weird ‘cause of it so is his.) 

Crowley slowed down, and circled to Aziraphale’s left side, where he slung his arm around his husbands shoulders, and pressed himself to his side, leaning as if he couldn’t stand without him. “Hey Johnny!” He said, flashing a grin with, quite honestly, disturbingly sharp teeth. “Finally got yourself a boyfriend I see.” 

Sherlock, like usual, said nothing, letting himself for a moment believe that they were together. 

John sighed behind Sherlock. “We’re not a couple.”

Aziraphale looked awkwardly between them, knowing love when he sensed it, “but-“

Unknown to Sherlock, John made a little hush motion with his fingers, and mimed the words _‘he doesn’t know about the whole… end of the world thingy. And what you guys are thingy.’_ he mouthed silently with his lips. 

Pursing his lips, Aziraphale shrugged. “Whatever you say my dear. So shall we get on with the interview?”

Sherlock nodded, noting how Crowley had dark sunglasses that didn’t let any light through ‘ _Maybe some sort of light sensitivity or eye defect?_ ’ Sherlock was actually quite confused by Crowley, he couldn’t get a decent deduction off of him, and Crowley grinned as if… as if he _knew_ and was being hard to read on purpose. 

“So Crowley… did you notice anything odd about the crime scene? We noticed none of her possessions were stolen.”

Crowley’s grin died, “Well, there wasn’t anything particularly different I could find, other than the obvious fact of no wounds, and no trace of poison, it’s just.. Elle was such a sweet girl, I couldn’t understand why someone would hurt her. Unless…” Crowley’s expression darkened. “They overheard her talking to us.”

“Why would they kill her for talking to you?” 

“Ah. She was recently worried about coming out to her family as gay. They weren’t the nicest people and she recently got a girlfriend so… she came to talk to us. Note, we’re not all that well liked anyway,” Crowley chuckled sadly “a pair of slightly eccentric husbands? We’re **hated** by conservatives, and we’ve had so much family drama on top of it.”

“So a hate crime, or possibly a revenge crime you think?” Sherlock said quietly.

Crowley could feel the silent anger, and disgust at the idea of it being a hate crime radiate off this man. _’interesting…’_  
“Oh most certainly.”

Sherlock nodded, obviously thinking deeply. “I don’t like hate crimes, they’re annoying, cause panic, and a waste of time.”

Sherlock could hear his subconscious nag at him. _‘That’s a lie.’_ he heard. _‘They just sicken you. Your gay.That shit hits deep.’_

Crowley smirked as if he could hear those thoughts… or feel the emotions buried deep inside. John just sighed. He knew when he was lying. They knew eachother too well for that.  
He got the distinct gut feeling that nobody in the group believed him. 

“But a revenge crime… those are always interesting, especially with how the victim died.” 

———————

Sherlock strolled around the street where the victim died for the 3rd time that week, thoroughly exasperated. It’s been 3 whole days, and not hide nor hair of the killer had been seen, John was also around, but he was mostly catching up with his Godfathers, and telling them about little Rosie.  
_‘I really have to replace the photo of Rosie in my wallet’_ Sherlock mused as a walked back to the bookshop. _‘I far from need it, but it’s nice to have a picture of her in her current stage of life. Damn sentimentality’_

Opening the door, he waved in greeting to John, and have a small nod of acknowledgment to the husbands. 

“Ah hello Sherlock.” Aziraphale’s kind voice rang clearly through the (admittedly dusty shop) “find anything?”

Sherlock sighed heavily, sinking into a chair with a flop. “Absolutely nothing. The killer refuses to show up.” It was clear he was grumpy, even to the most unobservant of people.

“I should go.”

Sherlock looked up at John “but-“

“Well, last time they targeted someone with emotional attachments to these two right? And well, I’m their godson.” John said shrugging. 

“Alright”

—————————  
A/N it’s *its antichrist time to the tune of muffin time*  
Also note that while the fire/holy water thingy didn’t happen in my weird mash of book/show canon, heaven and hell have show canon, for the most part, and their salty as fuck about Armageddon.  
—————————

John walked to the site of the murder, aware that Sherlock was following him. He was aware of a lot of things, it was a perk to being the antichrist. 

John Watson knew a lot about his abilities being called freakish, so when he met Sherlock, who was equally as strange, he really couldn’t blame himself for slipping into feelings of love. However, he didn’t know shit about how Sherlock felt.  
Until recently that is (thanks Aziraphale)  
John was still being a coward to act though, and he most certainly couldn’t date Sherlock without telling him about his abilities and birth, which would surely knock all of Sherlock’s logic to the ground. _‘No, much better to wait until a good moment.’_

He strolled into the ally of where Elle _-‘its really to bad I never got to meet her’-_ died, and heard a groan rumble from the dirt. 

John quickly opened a mental link to Sherlock, trying to make it sound like Sherlock’s thoughts warning him away from danger. _’ah shit. Sherlock please leave’_

Sherlock didn’t leave, for some reason, the sudden nagging in his head for him to go, convincing him to do the opposite and wait to see if he could help John. 

John sighed heavily through his nose, opening the link a bit further. _‘Sherlock **please.** It’s sweet how you care but please, trust me it’s for your life.’_

This time John could tell Sherlock heard him, and that he _definitely_ recognized the voice as John. 

_‘I’ll fix that later…’_

A crack came from the ground, and Beelzebub crawled out. 

————

Sherlock’s eyes widened at the sight of the scraggly, unkempt person crawling from the ground. They were wearing a messy suit, with badges and some sort of huge fly hat on their head. 

Sherlock saw the fly move. 

Scratch that, that’s an actual fucking fly. 

“John, how'z the kid? ” the person drawled, shaping their S’s into Z’s

“No time for small talk. Why did you kill Elle?”

“Had to get your attention somehow, especially now your with that detective.” Beelzebub shrugged. “Besidez, she’z upstairs now, it’s fine.”

“That’s not fine.”

“You’ve certainly changed since you were a kiddo huh?”

“I was 12 the first and only time we met, shit happens.”

With a sly smirk, the person shifted into a leaning position against the wall. “You are aware that your friend iz right behind you, right? Or are you that ruzty?” 

John clenched his jaw. “I’m well aware. Can you screw off now Beelzebub?”

Sherlock did a quick mind palace check, Beelzebub was apparently a Lord of Hell… well they did crawl from the ground. 

“We’re getting impatient Jawwwnnnnnnnn,” Beelzebub drawled, slinking forward and lengthening the last part in a mockery of Sherlock, “When are you going to let go?” 

John sighed, and folded his arms against his chest. “My answers the exact same as it was 36 years ago. Nope.” John replied popping the P loudly. 

Beelzebubs face darkened. “You do realizze that it’s going to happen right? Whether you like it or not? If you start it, at least you and your loved onez will be spared-“ 

John yawned, and stomped on the ground, molten red cracks appeared, and Beelzebub was swallowed into the ground, and when John turned around, not even a scratch upon the ground was left. Seeing Sherlock, he sighed. 

“It’s a long story. Let’s go back to the shop and get something to ear, I’ll explain it then.”

—————————

“So you’re telling me, Johns the **antichrist.** ”

Crowley slurped up the spaghetti he was eating that the restaurant they were eating. “Yup”

“And you two are an **angel and a demon** ”

Aziraphale nodded, eating his ravioli much more daintily. “That’s right dear”

Sherlock looked like he was trying to decide whether to scream or laugh, John decided to finally do something risky and grabbed his hand across the table.  
“Hey Sherlock, it’s fine.”

Sherlock stared at John's hand clasped within his own, a blush spreading across his face. With a small smile, he squeezed John's hand. “I suppose it is.”


	2. Epilogue I guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny little ending, barely anything I’m afraid.

Not much has changed since the whole visit to Soho, although it’s certainly made some cases easier to solve, and **much** easier to catch Rosie running around. Mostly though, they stopped dancing around each other, which was really the best thing Sherlock could hope for, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u enjoyed chuckaboos.


End file.
